


It Never Rains in Southern California

by 7iris



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-09
Updated: 2007-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7iris/pseuds/7iris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I feel very betrayed by southern California," Patrick said. "It's supposed to be all celebrities and sunshine, and what do we get? Porn stars and torrential downpours."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Never Rains in Southern California

**Author's Note:**

> For the Multi-Fandom [**3daychallenge**](http://community.livejournal.com/3daychallenge/) [International "I think I'm chafing" Day Challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/3daychallenge/4269.html). Reposted here so I don't have to link to the comment where I misspelled California in the subject line. Oh, self.

"I feel very betrayed by southern California," Patrick said. "It's supposed to be all celebrities and sunshine, and what do we get? Porn stars and torrential downpours."

"I think I'm chafing," Bob said glumly, and they both kept walking.

Patrick was sure there had been a good reason to take the bus to In-N-Out, possibly some misguided sense of environmental responsibility, but it seemed less clever now that they were walking home in the rain. He'd never thought there'd be a city that would make him yearn for the CTA.

They turned up the driveway into the Oakwood and got cleared by the bored security guy, and then they were in the home stretch.

He wasn't really disappointed with southern California. The porn stars were more interesting than most celebrities he could think of, and even the freak rain wasn't so bad because he could have a hot shower and dry clothes as soon they got inside.

Or maybe not. "Oh, hell no," Bob said, grabbing the back of Patrick's sodden shirt, stopping him in the tiny entranceway. "I don't want to know what that carpet smells like when wet. Strip."

"What?" Patrick said.

"Take your clothes off here on the tile," Bob said. "That way we won't drip water over everything on the way to the shower. We can do a load of laundry when the rain stops."

"Um," Patrick said. And, okay, it wasn't like he had _body issues_ , wasn't like he hadn't had breakfast with Bob in his boxers, he was just not quite prepared to strip down in the foyer on a moment's notice.

Bob kicked off his flip-flops and started pulling his t-shirt over his head.

Patrick slowly toed his shoes off, shivering a little in the air conditioning. Maybe if he was slow enough, Bob would head off to the shower before Patrick was half-naked. Bob frowned at him.

"Seriously, dude, do you need a hand or something?"

"No!" Patrick said, but it was too late.

Bob got all up in his personal space and started unbuttoning Patrick's shirt. Patrick wasn't quite sure how anyone could unbutton a shirt condescendingly, but Bob managed.

Bob looked up from what he was doing and smirked, and Patrick thought, _Oh._ He hadn't actually thought to be worried about this.

Bob's eyes were ridiculously blue so close up, and the rain made his eyelashes dark and spiky. There were still rivulets of water running down his face, and there was--Patrick's eyes dropped--a bead of rain on Bob's lip-ring. Bob was still smiling at him when Patrick leaned forward and licked the drop of water off of Bob's metal.

Bob's eyes went wide and startled. Patrick was opening his mouth to say _I'm sorry,_ or maybe, _Please, let me-_ when Bob leaned forward and kissed him. Patrick could feel the warmth spreading from the hot, slick pressure of their mouths, and he grabbed Bob's waistband to pull him in closer.

Bob wasn't condescending when he fumbled with the rest of the buttons on Patrick's shirt, shoving it off his shoulders. They scrabbled at each other's zippers, peeling off their soaked shorts. Bob pushed him back up against the wall (or possibly Patrick kind of tripped stepping out of his shorts and took Bob down with him, and the wall was there to catch them). He hissed when Bob put his cold hands on his skin. Then Bob shoved his thigh between Patrick's legs, and rolled his hips, and oh, yes, friction, genius.

Patrick shifted his stance a little so he could get his hand on Bob's cock and start stroking. Bob broke the kiss to suck in a breath, his hands braced on the wall on either side of Patrick, his forehead pressed against Patrick's. Patrick tilted his head just a little, so he could catch Bob's lip-ring between his teeth. Bob's eyes flew open. Patrick tugged on the ring, careful and delicate, and Bob shuddered all over and came.

"Fuck, Patrick," he said, when Patrick let go, and dropped to his knees.

His hands on Patrick's hips were still cool but now they felt good against his skin. His mouth felt fucking unbelievable. Patrick's head fell back against the wall with a thump when he came, fingers tangled in Bob's damp hair. Bob looked up at him and smiled, and Patrick smiled back, letting himself slide down the wall so he could straddle Bob's knees and kiss him, slow and sweet and messy.

He wasn't disappointed with southern California at all.


End file.
